Scraggy put her hands on Everett, and saw Lem struggle to sit up, the lust of killing still blazing in his eyes. He had heard the woman's words, and as he slowly grasped the import of them he turned over and raised his head while pulling desperately at his throat. "Oh, Lemmy, love," she murmured, "ye've killed him this time! He's dead!" She leaned farther over, and kissed the white face of her son. "Yer hook's killed our little 'un, Lemmy--my little 'un, my little 'un!" "Oh, no, no, he isn't dead!" cried Ann. "He can't be dead!" She let go her hold on Fledra, and, with Scraggy, bent over Everett. "Oh, he breathes! But he isn't your son?" "Yep; he be Lemmy's boy and mine," answered Scraggy, lifting her eyes once more to Ann. "Look! He were hurt here by the hook when he were a baby." She drew aside Everett's tattered shirt-front and displayed a long white mark. Ann staggered back. Everett had said to her: "My mother will know me by the mark on my breast." So this was the end of Everett's dream! "He didn't love his mammy very much," Scraggy went on, "nor his pappy, nuther; but it were 'cause he didn't know nuther one of us very well, and Lem didn't love him nuther. And now they've fit till he's dead! Lemmy's sick, too. Look at his face! He can't swaller when he's sick like that." She left Everett and crawled to Lem. "Can ye drink, Lemmy?" she asked sorrowfully. The grizzled head shook a negative. "Be ye dyin?" This time Crabbe's head came forward in assent. "Then ye dies with yer little boy--poor little feller! He were the bestest boy in the hull world!" Here she placed an arm under Everett's neck; throwing the other about Lem, she drew the two men together before she resumed. "And Lemmy was the bestest man and pappy that anybody ever see!" * * * * * Screech Owl's last words were nearly drowned by the shrill whistle of a steamer. A minute later Ann and Fledra heard running footsteps coming from the direction of the lake. There was no knock; but a quick jerk of the latch-string flung wide the door--and Fledra was in Horace's arms. "Thank God, my little girl is safe!" he murmured. Then he glanced over her head, his horrified attention centered upon the group on the floor. Scraggy looked up at him, still holding Lem and Everett. "I'm glad ye comed, Mister. Can't ye help 'em any?" For many minutes they worked in silence over the father and son. Once the brilliant eyes of Brimbecomb opened and flashed bewilderedly about the room, until he caught sight of Ann. A smile, sweet and winning, curved his lips. Then he lapsed into unconsciousness again. "Oh, I want him to speak to me, Horace," moaned Ann, "only a little word!" "Wait, Dear," said Horace. "We're doing all we can.... I believe that man over there is dead." He made a motion as if to lean over the scowman; but Scraggy pushed him back.